Third Time Around
by Concolor44
Summary: She drove him away. Twice. Then she realized her mistake. Can he possibly forgive her again?
1. Chapter 1

**Third Time Around**

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_My Muse has become addicted to coffee. Or something. I'm trying like heck to get the next chapter of "Gone Wylde" finished (currently standing at 8500 words, and about half-done) but she INSISTED that I write this first. I try to tell her that plot bunnies don't NEED Viagra, but does she listen? Noooo._

_Anyway, this is my first foray into RaeRed territory, and I would appreciate some feedback._

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_* * Dusk * *_

The sharp ring of an axe hitting hardwood echoed out across a small cleared space. Sinking into the surrounding forest, the sound bounded through the bare branches of oak and ash, caressing the spruce's fine needles, finally to founder in the deep snow where it lost the will to live. The report repeated itself in a more or less regular fashion, as it had been all afternoon, pausing every minute or two so that the results of all that activity could be piled neatly on one of the series of ricks that stood beside the cabin.

That small structure nestled comfortably up against a steep rise of rock that made up one wall of the long hollow in which the builder had decided to take up residence. North and south stretched this gap in the land for over three kilometers, yet it spanned no more than two hundred meters wide at any point. The sun would make its first appearance in late morning, certainly after 10:30, and would touch the opposite mountain peak between one and two in the afternoon. Consequently, the small but lively stream that rushed down its center held ice along its banks throughout the winter season. The brook would eventually leave this micro-valley, meandering southward until it met up with the Missouri River.

Swinging the axe with such methodical purpose was a fine figure of a man, stripped to the waist despite the gathering cold. Tall, broad of shoulder and thick of thew, he would have been described in times past as 'well set-up'; nowadays, depending upon whom you asked, the term might be 'ripped' or 'buff' or 'sculpted' … or just plain 'hot'.

Each of those terms tumbled through Raven's mind as she covertly watched him, ensconced in a cleft of the rock above the cabin. She avidly followed his every motion, noting the light bronzing of his skin, the rippling muscles of his back and sides and chest bunching and turning with each blow of the axe or when he bent to pick up a piece of firewood, the way his now-long auburn hair flirted with his shoulders. And though she couldn't see them from her lofty vantage point, she could well enough remember how those dark gray eyes would snap with quick intelligence whenever something would catch his interest.

Even now, she couldn't quite make herself believe she had thrown it all away.

At length he tucked the big axe up under a lean-to against the cabin wall that also served to offer some protection to what she guessed was a propane tank, grabbed his shirt and sweater from where he'd tossed them over a crude sawhorse, and went inside. Clearly, Raven could hear the click of the latch through the still, cold air, deducing from that sound that he wouldn't be venturing out anymore this evening. _A good plan_, she thought, _as the temperature is supposed to drop well into the negatives later._ She stood and brushed off her parka, then slipped between the shadows, to emerge from a pool of inky darkness down in the yard.

This was the first point at which her plan might evaporate, and the one she most dreaded. Taking the few hesitant steps to his door, she reached out a hand …

_Really, there was no reason that the door should be __that__ intimidating. It was just a door._

… reached out a hand, aimed her knuckles at the rough wood …

_A quick flash of their last meeting ricocheted through her mind, bringing with it a shudder._

… aimed … her knuckles … at the …

_Come on, Raven, you can do this. You've certainly thought about it often enough._

Drawing a long breath of the icy air, she squared her shoulders and knocked firmly, four quick raps, then pulled the parka's hood away to lie in a furry pile against her shoulders.

She knew where he was in the cabin. Even if it had been a hundred times as large, she would have had no trouble picking out his psychic signature. This close, his aura nearly glowed in her mind.

The knocking startled him, more than she had thought it might, and he moved quickly across the room, pausing at one wall before making his way to the door. A light snap signaled the latch opening, and the door swung away, exposing several centimeters of yellowy light and his face.

She had to look up at him, fighting the urge to take a step backward. Her lungs seemed unwilling to do their job. His eyes … his glorious, stormy, beautiful, violent, perfect eyes regarded her in suppressed shock for a moment.

"… Raven?"

"Hello."

"… How did you find me?"

"By looking really hard for a very long time."

"What … what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk."

Finally overcoming his surprise, he blinked a few times, silent, thoughtful. "I … don't know what else there could be for us to talk about."

"Please?"

His eyes widened fractionally. _" Please?"_ She _**never**_ said that word.

"Yes. Please."

Several eternities crawled by while they stood in silent contemplation of each other. She truly did not know what she was going to do if he wasn't willing to talk, but considering the location, death by hypothermia was one option. Because she definitely wasn't leaving.

"Why?"

_Thank the goddess! _"Because many things have changed."

"… I doubt that things could have changed _**enough**_."

Neither her shoulders nor her voice shook when she said, "You might be surprised." She didn't know where her chutzpah was coming from but she wasn't about to question it. "But you'll never know if you don't let me in."

"_**Let**_ you in?" His mouth twisted in a wry smirk. "Since when has the great Raven needed an _invitation_ to go _any_where? Or a door, for that matter?"

Her sudden … _deflation_ at his words surprised him. "I … um …"

"… Yes?"

"I would really, really like to talk with you. That's all I'm asking for." _But not all I'm __**hoping**__ for!_ "It won't … that is, it _shouldn't_ take long."

Again they stood, each quietly sizing up the other, for several dozen rapid flutters of her racing heart. He cleared his throat. "How long have you been looking for me?"

"… I told you … a long …"

"Quantify it for me."

Her eyes faltered, searching the frozen ground for answers. Though he was no empath, she suspected he would be able to tell if she was less than truthful. And really, there was nothing to gain by calumny. "… Eleven months."

His breath caught. "You've searched for me for eleven months?"

"… That's what I just said, isn't it?" _Where is all this sudden courage coming from?_

"But it was only _fifteen_ months ago that you …"

"I know." She searched his face. "That's why I … why we need to talk."

He hadn't yet moved from his guarded position, nor had he opened the door any farther, but she could tell when he made his decision. His lips thinning, he stepped back. "I guess I can spare a quarter of an hour for the woman who was responsible for my death."

She had the grace to blush slightly at that comment. "Thank you." Moving inside, she doffed her parka and hung it on a convenient peg behind the door. A quick look around told her a lot: there was a low portal leading back to what she assumed to be his sleeping quarters, but it was in this room where he did most of his living. A compact propane-powered kitchen occupied the right wall, with an over-and-under clothes-washer/dryer tucked into the far corner. The various lights in use were all diffuse LED-style lamps, pulling hardly any electricity. The windows were small, but she could tell they were very much up to date. Tapping one, she asked, "Triple pane?"

He shrugged. "It's that or freeze. I don't like freezing."

At that point she noticed the semi-auto Glock in his hand. He noticed her noticing, shrugged again, and placed it back in the drawer he'd retrieved it from. "You never know."

She nodded, then indicated a lamp. "And the electric lights?"

"There's a small barrel-generator in the brook. It doesn't make much power, but then I don't need much."

Running a hand over the nearest wall, she said, "Nice paneling."

"It's laminate over ten centimeters of polyurethane foam. Heat stays in, cold stays out."

"Very cozy."

Pulling a chair away from the table, he swung it around and straddled it. "Raven, you didn't come here to make architectural observations. Kindly say what you want to say and let me get back to being dead."

A sigh made its way past her lips. "Very well. I'd …" She realized she was standing at parade rest and chided herself. "May I sit down?"

"By all means." He made no move to offer her a chair.

She walked over to the table, scooted the other chair out, and perched on its front edge. "You have two chairs. Expecting visitors?"

"I couldn't find a set that only had one chair."

"Convenient."

"Would you please just …"

"Sorry." She cleared her throat. "I'd like to apologize, and to offer an explanation."

"For killing me or for breaking my heart or for ruining what I had laughingly been referring to as my so-called life?"

_How the hell do I even __**answer**__ that?_ "… They are all connected … are they not?"

He heaved a long breath. "Yeah. I guess."

"Then it's a blanket apology. I was thoughtless and brusque and unnecessarily … um …"

"Evil?"

"… Perhaps that's a bit strong."

"Cruel, then?"

"… Ah … well, I suppose that's not far off the mark."

"Yes, we may suppose that, since it's true. You treated me like I was something unpleasant you'd stepped in. No, not even _that_ well. You acted like I … like I didn't even _matter_. At all."

Color crept up her face. She couldn't meet his eyes.

"So, what kind of apology are you offering, Raven?"

"… What do you mean?"

"Well, let's just say that waltzing in with a _'My bad, but that's just how I roll'_ ain't gonna cut it. Even demons ought to have better manners than that."

"… I know."

He crossed his arms and leaned on the back of the chair. "Why did you come here, Raven? Why did you spend eleven months hunting for me? How did you find the spare time in your busy schedule as a Titan?"

"I'm not a Titan anymore."

That made him sit up. "Seriously?"

She nodded.

"Did something happen?"

"Probably not in the sense you mean."

"… What, you just … you just quit?"

Another nod.

"Why?"

"Nightwing wouldn't allow me enough time to do my research. He believed you dead. I knew otherwise. I couldn't balance my patrol time with my quest for …"

"Whoa! Hang on. How did you know I wasn't dead?"

"Because you're better than that. All the forensic evidence to the contrary, I simply could not bring myself to believe that a group of only three assassins could have taken you down that easily."

"Easily! The apartment was totally trashed!"

"Which should have clued us in that you staged it. You wouldn't have fought them in your rooms. You would have teleported away to a place where you had the advantage of space."

His hand made its way to his chin. "Hmm. And all the blood?"

"That's what convinced Nightwing. He said there was too much there, that you would have bled out."

"Exactly. So how did you …"

"It was the aura."

"… Beg pardon?"

"Blood carries the aura of the victim with it for a time, especially if the blood loss was the result of violence."

"… No shit."

"Your blood – and we knew it was your blood from an examination of the DNA – was almost totally devoid of your aura. Yet the time of the supposed attack was only three hours earlier than when we got there. That meant, to me, that it had been out of your body for quite some time."

He leaned back, studying her face carefully, and finally said, very softly, "Well, damn."

"I didn't tell Nightwing, though."

That surprised him again. "Okay. I appreciate that."

"I assumed you had your reasons for wanting to disappear … and I, ah, also assumed that, ah … that, um …"

"That you were the main reason?"

"… Well … one of them anyway."

"All of them, Raven," he corrected softly. "All of them."

The pattern of the wood grain in his table was suddenly very interesting. "I don't see how that can …"

"Oh, please." He stood and came over to her. "You were in my head. I know you were. I felt you. You felt me. You knew what I was feeling, knew how much I … loved you."

She had some words, she just knew she did. But they couldn't fight their way past her throat.

"Even after that first time, after you left me and hooked up with Beast Bum, I couldn't stop loving you. Though God knows I tried."

Staring still at the table, she whispered, "It was the team. My … commitment to being a hero … my … efforts to deny my father's … influence. And you … you …"

"And I was just a scummy little thief. At least that's what you all thought. Even after I hunted down that evidence that cleared Star. Even after saving _Nightwing's_ stupid _life_, for God's sake! You couldn't get past the rep, none of you." He showed her his back, running both hands through his hair. "And we've been over this ground before. If I can remember it, I know damn well you can."

"… I know. I remember." _As if there was any chance of ever forgetting._

"Then you wanted another go. That thing with BB didn't work out, and he really _was_ too immature for you, and he really _did_ get on your nerves past all reason, and he really _was_ pretty much a dud in bed, especially after what we had. Everything falling apart just the way I thought it would."

Her face flamed at that remark. Glad, she was, that he wasn't looking at her just then.

"I knew you Raven. Knew you better than anyone. I paid attention. You're not as much a closed book as you'd like to think."

"Um …"

"And I was rash and stupid and horny and stuffed just brim-full of attitude and testosterone, and even though my brain kept screaming at me to _run-run-run_, I gave in. I let you back into my life. Because what sane man would turn down such an offer from the most beautiful girl on the whole damn planet, right? Even if she had ripped his heart out with a dull fork."

"Jason, I'm …"

"Don't call me that."

"… What?"

"Just … just don't."

"But …"

"No." Whirling back around, he fixed her with his gaze. "Even if I weren't dead, my name is not yours to use anymore. You gave up that privilege when you dropped me for Jinx." He vented a bitter laugh. "You know, even considering all the other shit that was flying around at the time, knowing you were leaving me for _**her**_ didn't hurt as bad as when you left me for Beast Boy."

"… Excuse me?"

Her quizzical expression prompted him to add, "It's different. If you leave a guy for another guy, then he's obviously come up short somewhere, and doesn't measure up to the other guy. But if you leave a guy for a _**girl**_, well, then, see … it's not like he could've done anything about it. You finally figured out that you're just not into guys, right?" His eyes drilled through her for a moment. "Except that wasn't exactly how it was with you, was it?"

This conversation wasn't panning out at all the way she'd hoped. He was being altogether too cogent, too … confrontational. _Well, Raven, what did you really expect? He's no idiot._

Nor was she. "Not exactly, no. As it turns out, I have a rather … egalitarian view of sexuality."

"Egalitarian. That's rich."

"I'm being serious."

"So am I. Look, if you wanted to experiment with Jinx, I'd have no problem with that."

She just stared at him.

"What, you think I'm some kinda bigot? Think I don't know anything about 'the gay'? Is that it?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You ran me off, Raven. No chances, no recourse. You treated it like an either-or, some kind of zero-sum game, like if you were with me you couldn't be with her, too."

"… I … I didn't …"

"No, you didn't, did you? You just scraped me off your shoe like old gum and moved in with Lucky, even though Dimwing was pitching a fit. Oh, yeah, don't think I didn't know about that. Your eyes give you away, Raven. You should avoid poker."

"He didn't … didn't understand about …"

"… about much of anything. For a leader, and Batman's apprentice, he could be _awfully_ dense. But he just looked at it like you were leaving one crook for another, and it drove him up the wall."

She hung her head. "Not my shining moment. I'll admit that."

"And that really was the last straw. I couldn't stay there in the same city, not with you being with Jinx. So I decided to die."

"… It was a very effective ploy."

"Yeah. Nobody looks for dead people, even if there isn't a corpus delicti."

Not knowing what else to say, she used a hand to take in the cabin. "This is a … a well-established setup. It must have taken a while to build."

He noted the abrupt conversational course change, but decided to ignore it. "Not so much. It's mostly prefab."

"Expensive, though."

"Didn't matter. I have lots of money."

"I always suspected you did."

"Hey, you had your secrets, I had mine. The fact that I was rich wasn't really an issue in our relationship, was it?"

"… No, I suppose not."

He walked over to the sink and poured himself a glass of water, taking a sip. "You got to the 'cruel' part."

That made her blink. "What?"

"In your apology. I sort of cut you off, but you said you were thoughtless and cruel, or something like that."

"Oh. Yes."

"Was there any more?"

"Um … rather a lot, actually." She repositioned herself and held his gaze, trying to keep her fingers from fidgeting. "Yes, I drove you away, and I'm sorry for that. I … did it on purpose. I know it sounds completely crazy, but I … I didn't want to …" She had to drop her eyes at this point. "… didn't want to hurt you."

"… **THE HELL?"**

Looking anywhere but at the man she loved, she continued, "I know it doesn't make sense now. It doesn't make sense to me either, but … I wasn't quite … together … at the time. And the dreams … the nightmares … were getting so intense."

"You told me those were just flashbacks. You said they meant nothing."

Biting her lip, fighting back tears, she drew a long breath. "I was afraid. I feared that Trigon's influence was coming to … dominate my thinking."

He gave a snort. "Well you got that part right."

"I'm sorry! I screwed up! I misinterpreted everything, and I made bad decisions and I … I hurt … you."

"_Killed_ me, Raven. I'm dead, remember? It went somewhat past 'hurt'. Let's at least be precise."

She muffled the first sob to the best of her ability and took an iron grip on her emotions. Practice, after all, makes perfect, even in the storm currently tossing her around. "You can have no idea of the mountain of guilt that I dealt with, once I understood what I'd done."

"Understood? Just exactly _what_ do you understand?"

"That I threw away the best thing that ever happened to me. That I treated you like dirt for no reason. That I was so wrong about … about everything. That it wasn't my emotions that were the enemy, it was my view of the world, of myself. I was just so … stupid."

He regarded her coldly for a few seconds. "Many things you may be, Raven, but 'stupid' is certainly not one of them. And in any case, stupidity is no excuse for the amount of damage you did to me."

His tone froze her more effectively than the sub-Artic wind ever could. She sought his eyes again, trembling at what she saw there. "I was … very good at lying to myself. I convinced myself that …"

"Save it."

She sniffed once, her hands knotting together in fists, but didn't say anything else.

"I think it's time for you to go now."

Still silent, she rose and walked slowly to the door.

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**Chapter End Note: Something of a cliffhanger, I know, but I'm flat OUT of time right now, and I wanted to get this posted before we leave town. I'll get the next (and last) chapter up next weekend. Cheers!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Third Time Around**

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_Reviews_ & Remarks

_Skywisechan:_

_Well you certainly have built up quite a lot of pre-history and more for this little foray. I'm very curious to see where it's going to lead._

Heh. So am I. This second chapter is rather more expanded than I'd planned.

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_discb _

_So far so good, can't wait to see the next bit. The whole being a dud in bed got me to laugh3_

Glad to hear it! Red X came up with that part. He's a little … **conceited** about certain things.

_. . ._

_MixedPairings101_

_Damn, girl! U sound soooo professional! Hahaha! Awesome! Continue! :)_

Thank you, thank you. Sounds professional, eh? Excellent.

_. . ._

_Gabylokita41_

_I loved it and I can't wait to read the next chap. I think u did an awesome job I shall wait to read the rest :) _

I am very pleased that you liked it! Hope you like this one just as much.

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_* * Midnight * *_

Light from the single lamp I'd left on made very interesting refraction patterns in my shot glass. These were browner than the earlier ones. I'd started out with Bushmill's, killed that bottle, and moved on to an Islay single-malt that someone had given me for Christmas four years back, after I'd turned twenty-one. Bowmore, I think. Let me look at the bottle …

Yeah. Bowmore. Good stuff. Smoky and dark and so smooth a fly couldn't stick to it. Runs down your throat like a lover's kiss, as they say …

Hah. Lover. I had one, once. Or twice. Depends on how you think about it. Only ever wanted her. No one else. Wasn't anyone else that could come close.

I let my eyes drop shut, trying to keep the memories at bay.

… Not even close.

I didn't _**want**_ to remember her. I'd moved up here, up to the western border of the Breaks, so I could damn well _forget_ her. Got myself all killed and dead and shit. And what does she do?

Bitch.

She made me love her. It was those legs that got my attention, those eyes that held it. I mean, damn. Once I managed to get her away from that cloak … hell on a crutch! Most perfectly-assembled example of womanhood I'd ever even _imagined_, and there she stood.

Yeah. There she stood, trying to ring my bell for me. And not doing a bad job of it. More than once I barely got away intact. I had to make some major changes in the way my X's worked, so that they'd scramble her control for a while. But she kept adapting.

Heh. Just like the Borg. Ha! 'Resistance is futile.' Don't I freaking know it.

An' the way she looked was just the tip of the iceberg. Once we'd, you know, 'interacted' a few times, I was hooked. That incredibly dry sense of humor. And she's just about the smartest … and the way she could always …

Oh, yeah, Jason, good job 'forgetting' her.

Noticing that my glass was empty, I poured myself another shot, whereupon I also noticed that the bottle was empty. I blinked at it owlishly for a few seconds and then set it carefully on the floor beside the others.

Oh, yeah. See, I'd started with beer, but that wouldn't get me numb enough, so after … let's see … yeah, after five Newcastles I switched to Irish whiskey. 'cause it's got more kick.

(Okay, so, technically Newcastle is a brown ale, not a beer. Don't care. And that was the last of my personal stock. Beer doesn't age well, as I know from personal experience, so I don't try to make it last very long.)

Funny thing about that, though. I've always had a hollow leg. I started working on the Bushmills … um, lessee, I'd make it … yeah, nearly five hours ago. And I put down most of a bottle of Irish, and all of a bottle of Bowmore, and yeah, I've got a good buzz, but that's about it. I also know that I'm gonna wake up tomorrow with several dozen woodpeckers hammering away at the backs of my eyes. Even _**good**_ Scotch will do that to you.

But I really don't give a shit, because it helps me to forget her.

No, wait. That's not really the right word. 'cause I'm not forgetting her, 'cause I'm thinking about her right now.

The booze helps me … not to _**care**_.

As much.

God, Raven, why'd you have to find me? I mean, what the hell?

You made it pretty fucking plain that you didn't ever want to see me again.

Didn't want to 'hurt' me.

Right.

So she stabs my heart and tears it _right slam open_ and fishes around until she finds the ego and pulls it out by the roots, and then laughs at me for caring.

That night? She knew I was outside. She knew I was watching. I could feel that tickle at the bottom of my mind. And she went ahead and made out with Jinx anyway, knowing how it would rip me in half, knowing that I'd watch anyway because She Was Just So Damn Hot and there wasn't anything I could do to stop myself, even though seeing her make love to Jinx was like having a red hot pitchfork in my gut.

Didn't want to 'hurt' me. I don't think there's anything she could have done that would hurt me _**worse**_.

I need more whisky. I've got some Ben Nevis around here somewhere …

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. . .

He's had just the one lamp on for a couple of hours now.

I can still pick up a random thought or two every few minutes.

It was easier at _**first**_ because he was so upset. Any man, woman, child, or semi-aware chimp would have been able to pick up on him _**then**_. By now it's waaaaay beyond …

Don't think about it, Raven.

It occurs to me to pull my parka around myself more tightly. There had been no air movement at all earlier, but over the past hour or so a fairly fresh breeze found its way into this little valley, and by now the wind chill must be ferocious. Keeping warm was … a concern? Did I really care? Not so much that I could just ignore the tempest of pain and betrayal and righteous indignation being broadcast from …

Don't _**think**_ about it, _**Raven!**_

Yeah, like that will work. I knew he'd be mad. I knew, once I was sure of his trail, that finding him would … create a scene. I'd certainly worked hard enough to drive him away.

Jinx had made her preferences quite plain, even before I left Jason the first time. She was (for the sake of appearances, as far as I could tell) with Kid Flash. She was his partner, the only one he ever really had. But even then she was 'sneaking some fish tacos', as Argent so pithily put it. And, according to Argent, she was quite … talented. And I'll admit the idea intrigued me.

Demons don't go in for monosexuality as a general rule. That's your factoid for today.

The 'Beast Boy thing' was old ground, as Jason had said … old and parched and sterile. There wasn't enough of _that_ dead horse _left_ to beat. ('Dead horse' being quite the apt allusion, when it came to descriptions of his so-called prowess in the bedroom. And compared with Jason? It was really too pitiful.) But I digress. It's getting harder to think. Probably a side effect of the cold. Kind of like my waning powers.

Jinx. Right …

Oh, screw it. I'll try to concentrate on the cabin. Maybe he's mellowing out …

_. . . . . . .  
__**PAIN**__  
and  
loss  
and  
__**PAIN**__  
and  
hurt  
and  
__**PAIN**__  
and  
anger  
and  
__**PAIN**__  
and  
. . . . . . ._

… Um. Not really. Not so as you'd notice.

I spent the first couple of hours, after he kicked me out, hovering around outside his cabin, trying to formulate some kind of excuse for knocking on his door and begging my way back inside. Or, barring that, simply teleporting in.

But … I didn't _**want**_ to do it that way. I wanted …

You're going to think this sounds completely insane. I wanted him to _**want**_ for me to come back in.

Yes, citizens, Raven has lost it. Thanks for noticing.

But, seriously, I truly did _**not**_ expect for him to be so … so mad. Such _**anger**_.

Such … _**cold**_ anger. He had obviously had plenty of time for the damage to fester, and it's just as obvious that's what it did, instead of healing. And I came along and ripped the scab off and spilled toxic-relationship waste all over the landscape.

Way to go, Raven.

As if what I did to him through Jinx wasn't enough.

Maybe … hey, maybe if he talked to her? She was able to talk sense into me, so …

Man. How many flavors of screw-up _**am**_ I? I can't even _**cheat**_ correctly! And she figured it out pretty damn quick, too. She wasn't even all that upset with me. But then she's a lot more resilient than people give her credit for. Smarter, too. If I weren't already so utterly besotted with Jason …

But she's with Cheshire now, and they're really good together. And I really am out of options.

Oh, well. If wishes were fishes and so forth. She knew what I needed better than I did myself, which, given the amount of time I've spent in meditation and introspection throughout my life, is _**completely**_ humbling. It's that same old, tired, clichéd story: You never appreciate what you have until it's gone. And in my case, it's gone because I _**arranged**_ for it to be gone.

Damn parka. Stupid thing won't stay closed.

Oh, wait. It _**is**_ closed. It's the damn wind …

. . .

. . .

. . .

Was lookin' for the Ben Nevis. Found some Bacardi 151 instead. F'got I had it. Stuff packs a wallop an' 'at's no shit.

's funny, though. I'm more'n half wasted, an' some o' the scenes are jus' as clear as 'ey can be.

_. . . . . . . I waited until night to return to the Tower.  
Not because I needed the cover,  
or because I was 'scared' of Nightwing  
('Martial Arts Master' my ass …  
he's a huge, conceited bag of hot air  
an' he'd trip over his own balls given half a chance),  
but because I knew _**she'd**_ be there.  
It was Greenie's turn to patrol.  
Raven always stayed in those nights.  
At least she had until Jinx came into the picture.  
I was pissed at the pink-haired witch,  
but not for the same reasons I was mad at Raven.  
I knew Jinx. I'd known her for a long time,  
Even from before she went into the H.I.V.E.  
She's random and cunning and dangerous  
and would make a really bad enemy.  
Not that I worried about that.  
I make a really bad enemy, too.  
We respected each other's abilities.  
Though I was no computer whiz, I had my moments,  
and hacking Cyborg's security system was one.  
I materialized in front of her door.  
Then I just waited.  
She would know I was here, knock or no.  
Sure enough, less than a quarter minute later,  
the portal slid open. I walked in.  
She was in civilian clothes,  
sitting in front of her mirror,  
brushing out her hair.  
It was longer now, and it looked really good.  
Damn it.  
There was blush on her cheeks …  
I could see traces of lip gloss and mascara.  
"You're going out."_

_She only nodded._

"_You'll get tired of her eventually,  
just like you get tired of everyone and everything."_

_She was unperturbed. "That is of no consequence."_

"_Jinx might not be as forgiving as I am."_

_She turned to me then.  
"You think I fear Jinx? That's amusing."_

"_I only think you actually __**fear**__ one thing.  
You've proven it often enough."_

"_And what is it that I fear?"_

"_Commitment."_

_Her brow clouded. "You overstep yourself."_

"_As if. This is your fourth relationship  
in a little less than a year,  
if you count twice breaking up with me.  
I think it's pretty damn obvious  
you're just groping in the dark."_

"_As I recall, you were the one that did the groping."_

"_And you didn't just lie there like a lump, Sunshine."_

_She startled a tiny bit at the nickname,  
but then waved dismissively and turned back to her mirror.  
"That was just a phase. An experiment, if you will."_

"_So you're all fixed up with Jinx now,  
and everything's perfect? Is that what you tell yourself?"_

"_I fail to see how it is any of your business."_

"_You fail to see a hell of a lot of things."_

"_You should go."_

"_And __**you**__ should wake up.  
But it looks like it's gonna be a long wait for __**that**__ miracle."_

_I didn't notice the black mist  
creeping up my legs until that  
bottomless portal opened under me.  
I'm awfully fast,  
and my reflexes are without peer,  
but it wasn't enough.  
I fell into the surf a couple dozen meters from the Tower.  
Fortunately I'd made some changes in the suit,  
so the xenothium chamber was watertight.  
Her voice sounded lightly in my mind:  
__Give it up, Jason. You're old news.__  
I 'ported right back up to her room, but she was gone. . . . . . ._

Saw her one more time after that. Tried t' talk to her. Didn' go so well. She went all four-eyed-demon on my ass, an' I hadda high-tail it. Girl can go from zero to hellbitch in two seconds flat.

Well whaddaya know. Bottle's empty. Wonder what else I got back there.

. . .

. . .

. . .

It's … pretty cold now.

Concentration's shot to hell.

Haven't been able to levitate for a while now. I think. Maybe? Can't remember. Walked over to the cabin. Stumbled, more like. Crawled under the lean-to. Wind's not so bad here.

Got the same thing running through my head on an endless loop. Last time he ever tried to talk to me.

_. . . . . . . Jinx and I had argued.  
Nothing new about that.  
She's entirely too perspicacious for her own good.  
The argument got … somewhat heated.  
It was fortunate that we were in the park at the time.  
That kept collateral damage to a minimum.  
I was on the roof, meditating,  
(trying to, at any rate)  
and he was just __**there**__.  
The one we had been arguing about.  
I was in no mood to bear his presence,  
his jibes, his innuendos,  
his sense of betrayal,  
his insufferable pain.  
But he showed up anyway.  
It has been happening more often of late.  
He refuses to get the message,  
though I have been as blunt as a hammer.  
Jinx has known him far longer than I.  
Several years.  
Why they never became a couple is beyond me.  
She certainly has what it takes,  
and he certainly has the raging hormones.  
I pretend not to notice him._

"_On the outs with Jinx again, I see."_

_I ignore him._

"_I hate to say 'I told you so', but …  
no, wait, actually I kinda enjoy it.  
The way the words just roll around:  
'I __toooold__ you so.' Sounds good, don't it?"_

_That does not bear ignoring.  
"I would not speak so if I were you, Red X."_

"_But you ain't me, are you?  
No, __**you're**__ th' Almighty __**Raven,**__  
and the rules don't apply to __**you**__.  
You're too special to …"_

"_I would __**NOT**__ speak so if I were __**YOU**__."_

"_Why the hell not?  
What you gonna do, __**hero?**__  
Kill me?"_

_It is then that I determine he is under the influence.  
This does not placate me.  
"You need to remove your impaired self before  
you say something you can't take back."_

"_What if I don't wanna?"_

"_Then I will not be responsible for the consequences."_

"_Hell, you ain't responsible for _**dick**_ now!  
You never own up to any of your …"_

_The last bit of that statement was lost  
when I knocked all the breath out of him  
with a huge fist of darkness.  
"Shut up, Jason!"_

_He bounced back to his feet.  
Apparently the alcohol hadn't dulled his reflexes much.  
"Yeah, that's right! Hit me! Go on!  
You __**got**__ no argument,  
nothin' to say that makes any sense,  
so you just attack!  
Think I can't take it?  
I've handled the worst you could dish out, Sunshine.  
If seein' you with __**Jinx**__ didn't kill me,  
nothin' __**else**__ you can do will!"_

_I fear that I … lost control at that point.  
He dodged my next sally,  
teleported behind me,  
and swept my legs out from under me.  
I was able to phase through the roof  
rather than landing on it,  
and came back up several meters behind him.  
He was facing away, glancing around,  
and turned just as I grabbed him.  
The black energy held him  
in three bands,  
immobile.  
He struggled madly, but could not escape.  
I drew closer.  
With another tendril of dark mist,  
I jerked off his mask.  
I wanted to see his fear.  
The demon in me wanted payback  
for the insults he threw my way.  
I pulled my face up centimeters from his …  
but …  
there was no fear.  
His eyes were full of sadness.  
Full of regret._

_Lost hope._

_Love._

_The force of his love pushed at my psychic shield,_  
_making me wince._  
_I grit my teeth, showing him my fangs._  
_"Why won't you just stay away?" I screamed._

_His voice small and lost, he said,  
"I can't. You know I can't."_

_I could not stand it.  
I had done everything I could to drive him away.  
He was like a stray cat that had been fed  
and would dodge the rocks I threw.  
My demon was no longer amused.  
With a primal bellow of frustration,  
I shook him like a terrier shakes a rat,  
then I threw him toward the sea with everything I had.  
He made a monstrously long arc,  
surely more than a kilometer,  
but his dwindling form winked out  
when he was still a few hundred meters in the air.  
I didn't wait to see whether he would try to return.  
A gelid wind blasted from the hole  
I opened in reality,  
and I let it suck me in . . . . . . ._

I don't like to remember that.

You can probably guess why.

But I remember it anyway.

He's just a human, you know? No special meta abilities. Doesn't heal … any better than the kid who delivers pizza to the Tower. He's fast, but he's no Olympic sprinter. Strong, but I know lots of baseline power-lifters … who are stronger. He's got some mad martial arts skills, a wicked sense of humor, and balls of tempered steel, but really … he's just a human.

He got hurt during that cross-dimensional invasion crap. Hurt bad. I healed him as much as I could … but he still spent two weeks … in the hospital … and was on crutches … for another month.

I give in to a yawn and I … notice how stiff my arms feel.

Huh. Can't really … feel my fingers. That's funny.

I had to … physically threaten Nightwing … to keep him from throwing Jason … in prison … while he was incapacitated.

Never told him about that.

He's just … a human … and I'm not.

I couldn't let him … stay with me. It would be … too dangerous.

Huh. I guess Jason's insulation … isn't as good … as he thought. Startin' to … feel … warm.

… Feels …

… nice …

. . .

. . .

. . .

**Chapter End Note: This was supposed to be the final chapter. However, my Muse had other ideas. So there will be one more. Probably.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Third Time Around**

. . .

. . .

. . .

_Reviews_ & Remarks:

_SepticMind:_

_ I like the amount of backstory that's coming in with this! And while I guess this is supposed to be some serious-toned kinda fic, the 'sneaking some fish tacos' bit, as well as some of Raven's other mental comments were damn hilarious xD Raven, why are you always so funny when things are meant to be serious? Jesus woman! _

Yeah, I do love me some backstory! And right now, Raven can either laugh about it or cry, and she's ready for some comic relief.

. . .

_Skywisechan:_

_Well it certainly could be the final chapter. Raven freezing to death would constitute a fairly concrete ending. Of course if you want to actually have her freeze to the consistency of concrete then having him find her in the afternoon, (the hangover taking up his morning) and his reactions to that certainly could give one more chapter. I suspect this isn't the end, but still it would be a dark shocker if it were/is._

Hmm. While I do occasionally write the odd dark one-shot, I try not to make it a habit. I like happy endings ... or at least endings that don't send me looking for rope. And I assume most of my readers feel the same way. And Raven isn't entirely human, as has been delineated elsewhere. So ... stay tuned!

. . .

. . .

. . .

Nightwing wanted the details. You know, the whole Massacree in Four Part Harmony? So. I've thought this over some, and I think the best way to tell it is to … well, to just tell it the way it happened. So please bear with me if things don't seem like they make sense in a place or two.

. . .

. . .

. . .

_* * Morning * *_

I wasn't far off the mark about the hangover. Except it wasn't woodpeckers. It was gnomes. With pickaxes.

Hot ones.

Red hot, needle-sharp pickaxes that had been dipped in acid.

I tried a yawn and then gagged: if I had spent the night cleaning all the restrooms in Shay Stadium with my tongue, I don't think my mouth could have tasted any worse. Fixing that was the first order of business.

Then my bladder alerted me to the fact that it was about to explode, which meant _**that**_ was the real first order of business.

I sat up …

… and fell back over.

Okay. The _***first***_ real first order of business was reconnecting my sense of balance with the rest of my body. Because it was seriously AWOL at that point.

I blinked a few times, which only served to move the gummy gunk coating my eyelids from top to bottom or back. Wiping my eyes just left them feeling scratchy.

Damn this taste. How could something that went down so smooth convert into something so foul?

Oh, yeah. Because it's a poison. Right. Forgot.

Ugh. _Don't pee, don't pee, don't pee …_

Blearily, I looked around the room, finally realizing that I was in my chair, not my bed. The empty Bacardi bottle had rolled over against the wall. And the room was cold, which made me shiver, which made the pounding/scraping/stabbing that filled my head even more intense, and the pressure under my gut even tighter.

A quick and unsteady stumble to the sink, and I had my head under the running water. Turning my face sideways, I took a few mouthfuls, swished them around, and spat them out. Then I had several short, uncomfortable swallows. Then, using the wall to keep myself vertical, I finally made it to the toilet. Then I went looking for the acetaminophen.

Twenty minutes later I was nursing my second cup of black coffee and wondering when my stomach would be settled enough to allow me to try something solid.

Forty minutes later I'd choked down three saltines and half of a single-serving size container of applesauce, and was brewing pot-of-coffee number three. And I finally felt stable enough that I thought I could go get some firewood. Apparently during my binge of the night before, it had slipped my notice that I'd used up all the wood in the box, and now the fire was nothing but a few dim embers here and there. This irritated me because I knew that what was outside would probably be covered with snow and therefore wet. I hated trying to start a fire with wet wood. In preparation, I pulled out a chunk of cotton felt that I'd soaked with paraffin and set it on the hearth.

Moving to the window above the sink, I squinted out at the thermometer I'd hung from the eave: it read minus twenty-two, Celsius. Damn freakin' cold, in other words, especially for late October. I pulled my aerogel overcoat from its hook and gingerly shrugged into it, careful not to shake my head. It still felt like it might come off if improperly jiggled.

Outside I could see that more snow had fallen during the night. Five or six centimeters deep on the threshold, it had drifted to half a meter against the nearest rick of firewood.

I know. Just terrific, right? Stupid wind.

Moving as quietly as I could in deference of my lingering headache, I stepped carefully through the new powder over to the ricks. A quick dusting-off revealed yesterday's work, and I chose half a dozen of the right size.

As I turned to go back inside, I caught a glimpse of something that made me stop.

Now, you have to understand that I'm sort of a savant where "what's wrong with this picture" is concerned. Maybe it's an intuition-based thing, or maybe I've just had it trained into me, but it has always come naturally, kind of like my ability to pick up and integrate new martial arts forms. At age twelve, from a standing start, I got black belts in karate, judo, and jujitsu in thirty months. I mastered aikido, tai chi chuan and kung fu over the next two years, then spent a year blending all of it into a cohesive style of my own. And I guess it works, 'cause (although I don't have any real desire to go up against the Batman) I can whip the so-called Boy Wonder without too much trouble.

Sorry. Got off topic there.

What I saw was something sticking out of the snow where it was piled up against the lean-to that covered the propane tank. I walked over …

… it was a tuft of fur.

I had a quick flashback of Raven taking off her parka when she came inside. The fur looked like that.

My heart rate doubled.

Dropping the wood, I knelt and scooped snow away, and the next thought that ran through my head was, "Oh, _**hell**_, no!"

. . .

. . .

. . .

I didn't have any real good notion as to why she wasn't dead. She damn well should have been. Her arms were frozen solid to past the elbow, and her legs to just below the knee, and her eyelids were frozen open. Second scariest thing I'd ever seen, and it just about shut me down.

I got her inside quick and wrapped her up in all the blankets I had and got a fire stoked and going as fast as I could. I had a good, basic knowledge of what to do for victims of frostbite, but this … _**this**_ was above-and-beyond. Her skin wasn't blue or red, the way normal frostbite looks, but it felt like ice, hard and cold and almost slick to the touch … like a candle that had been left in the freezer. I knew not to rub her, knew that she needed to warm up slowly, that she needed warm air to breathe.

Yeah, even though she was only breathing about twice a minute, and that mighty damned shallow.

I wrestled my bed out of the back room and placed it in front of the stove, as close as I dared without risking charring the blankets. I laid her down so that she faced the heat, rearranged the blankets to sort of try to trap it, or at least conduct it along in her direction.

While I was doing all I could for her, my brain was running around like a weasel with its ass on fire. I couldn't figure it out. Really. No clue (and the headache wasn't helping). What the _**hell**_ was she thinking? Why had she cuddled up against the side of my cabin and allowed herself to freeze nearly to death? It made no sense! Sure, she _**said**_ she came here to apologize, but … but last night I thought that she was either trying to salve her conscience, or (more likely) she had some underhanded, ulterior motive and needed me as a fall guy again. And I wasn't going to go there, no matter **HOW** much I'd been missing …

No, Jason. Don't. Just … just don't.

But … none of it made sense.

My head was already in enough pain from the hangover. I did _**not**_ need this to deal with on top of everything else.

It took hours.

To begin with, I would check on her every few minutes, make sure the firebox was cranked up high, hold my hands against her face. After half an hour or so, I noticed her eyelids drooping. They slowly closed over the next little bit. But her breathing didn't change. It was like … like she was in a coma or something.

I sat beside the bed, watching her. Trying to piece together her motives. And failing.

As soon as she was thawed enough to move her limbs, I got the parka off her, and her turtleneck (her hair is so long … she must have had it up last night) and boots and cargo pants (when the hell did she start wearing stuff like that?) and then climbed in beside her. That's one of the things you're supposed to do: share your body heat. (That's the next-best-thing to putting her into a tub of warm water, but since I didn't _**have**_ a tub, that wasn't really an option.) Then the victim won't get too hot and have a seizure, or warm so fast that the cold blood rushes in from her extremities and chills her core and stops her heart, or any of the other dozen or so horrible things that might happen.

Except … I wasn't so sure any of them _**would**_ happen.

She's not human. Not fully. And her demon side makes her … awfully tough. Really. She can take an amazing amount of damage and the next day look like nothing was ever wrong.

But did that apply to freezing to death?

And **WHY** … in the name of all that was remotely **SANE** … had she allowed it to happen? That question ate away at my psyche the whole time. I had some tiny, niggling insights, if you want to call them that, about what may have led her to do it. But I refused to acknowledge them.

I spooned up behind her so as not to block the heat from the stove. She was so cold. It was like hugging an icicle. Except the icicle was in the shape of a ravishingly beautiful woman with perfectly arched brows and full, sweet lips and eyes that put amethysts to shame and …

_**Will You Just Stop It!**_

I closed my eyes and began counting by prime numbers. When I got to 587 (I always get lost somewhere around 600) I had transferred my focus back to my headache. It was receding. A little. The gnomes had switched from picks to clubs, and some of them seemed to be on a coffee break. Good news for me.

I looked back down at the girl in my arms. She was still profoundly unconscious. I'd placed one arm down along her side on the bed, and her other across my flank, but that was getting uncomfortable. So I moved and scooted and twisted until she was lying at length on top of me, her head just under my chin. In that position, her toes just made it to the middle of my shins. She's such a petite thing, it can lull you into thinking she's as fragile as she looks. And that would be a serious mistake …

_. . . . . . . Now I know that beauty is in the eye of the beholder  
and all that jazz.  
I know that different planetary cultures  
prize different sorts of appearances,  
and that evolutionary pressures can lead  
to some really funky-looking outcomes  
(by human standards, that is).  
But I'm serious. These alien invaders?  
Ugly clean to the bone.  
Except I was pretty sure they didn't _**have**_ bones.  
The Justice League was concentrating  
on the main strike group that landed in South Africa,  
but there were a few other, much smaller groups  
that cropped up here and there,  
and one of those was on Vancouver Island.  
The Titans were the nearest bunch of hero-types  
to their landing site, so they got the nod.  
Being as how I was with Raven at the time  
– even though Bird-Boy objected … loudly –  
I tagged along. Hey, it's my planet, too, you know?  
The thing is, though, that I hadn't figured out  
how to get my martial arts abilities  
to count for much against these … things.  
Was gonna say 'guys', but … yeah.  
They're something to look at.  
Vary a lot in size, but the smallest ones  
are about three meters, uh, tall, I guess,  
and mass around a ton.  
Look sort of like what you might imagine  
from the offspring of a giant crab  
and a pile of firewood.  
They've got somewhere between  
six and ten 'legs', depending on how big they are.  
Lots of hard surfaces and sharp angles and sharper points,  
and completely dead-white  
except at the spiky ends  
where they fade gradually to brown,  
and there's nothing that you might think of as a 'head',  
and apparently they don't use vision.  
At least not the way we do.  
Oh, and they drip slime. And it stinks.  
They had these energy-weapon things that shot …  
packets of plasma? Maybe? I was never too sure.  
But it would blow a big hole clean __**through**__ a car.  
I made sure to stay well away from the fireworks.  
Anyway, after the Titans had been fighting them for a few minutes,  
Cyborg figured out that there was a sonic frequency  
that they really didn't like,  
and he pumped all his power into it  
and gave 'em a right old spray.  
I think he was expecting it to take 'em down.  
What it did instead was make 'em howling mad.  
Now, Robin – or Nightwing if you like –  
had been trying a bunch of different bird-a-rangs on 'em,  
and found out that the thermite-based ones  
seemed to do the most damage.  
Guess they didn't do too well with heat.  
Come to think of it,  
this bunch here was about as close to the equator  
as any of them ever got.  
Funny, and not in a 'ha-ha' way.  
Anyhow, I popped over and told him  
I could deliver his explosives a lot more accurately  
than he could by just throwing them.  
I was something like the only game in town at that point,  
so he gave in, though I could tell it pained him.  
I was able to place the first three precisely at the …  
central junction?  
The point in the middle where all the leg-things came together.  
And it worked like a charm.  
Those three didn't move again.  
But they were smart,  
and they caught on to what I was doing pretty quickly.  
The instant I showed up on the fourth one's back,  
one of the others tried to blast me.  
It was touch and go there for a few seconds,  
but then the one doing the shooting  
got encased in black energy  
and slammed into his nearest neighbor,  
and that took them both out.  
That also redirected their spleen at Raven.  
And, you know, she can teleport,  
but it's not a 'blink-blink' thing  
the way it is with my suit.  
It takes her a second or so  
to form the portal and pass through.  
And a second was all they needed.  
Before I could process what was happening,  
one of them had jammed the end of its leg through her,  
and had her staked to the ground._

. . .

_Pause right there if you will,_  
_and consider this:_  
_I loved that woman._  
_She was my life,_  
_the reason I'd given up thievery –_  
_hell, the reason I got up each day –_  
_the one person whose good opinion_  
_I valued as much as my own._  
_My well-being was bound up in hers,_  
_and I __placed hers **before** mine.  
__And there she lay on the ground,__like so much meat.  
__Just consider that, please._

_. . ._  
_Now, I had brought a couple of good blades with me,_  
_just in case,_  
_and I hadn't had much of a chance to use them._  
_But I'd seen what happened_  
_when that junction-point thing was attacked._  
_I 'ported over to the alien that had …_  
_that had just …_  
_I couldn't think about that just then._  
_Had a job to do._  
_Kill invaders first._  
_Panic later._  
_I came in right on top of it,_  
_and put my sword into its middle_  
_with everything I had._  
_It sort of crumpled and fell over._  
_I jumped down and landed beside Raven where …_  
_where she was impaled._  
_Another two good whacks,_  
_and the thing's leg parted company with the sharp end._  
_I knelt beside her._  
_If any of the other aliens had been paying me close attention,_  
_they could have killed me right then,_  
_because all I could see_  
_was the woman who encompassed my world,_  
_lying in an expanding pool of her own blood._  
_The spike had gone into her lower chest,_  
_somewhere around where I figured_  
_the spleen or pancreas or lung might be._  
_Then a really incredible racket pulled my attention away_  
_and I saw a couple of planes zip by overhead,_  
_and then all that was left of the aliens was little pieces._  
_Robin and Cy ran over and we got the spike out of her_  
_and Cy started first aid with the kit he keeps in one of his thighs._  
_Things got really confused after that._  
_It was late the day after next before I could get in to see her._  
_Night-bastard-wing wouldn't let me fly back with them._  
_God, I hate that man._  
_Hell._  
_Whatever._  
_Everyone was back at the Tower_  
_and she was in the infirmary._  
_Sitting up._  
_Reading a book._  
_She smiled when she saw me walk in._  
_I sat next to her and we talked for a while_  
_and she told me about how her demonic side_  
_sort of takes over when she gets badly injured_  
_and puts her into a sort of healing trance._  
_Said that the older she got,_  
_the better it seemed to work._  
_She said her chest didn't really even hurt anymore,_  
_but Cy insisted on keeping her another day for observation._  
_I was just glad she was alive, and I … sort of fell apart._  
_I might have cried a little._  
_Don't really remember._  
_But she pulled me up onto the bed with her,_  
_and held me while I got it out of my system . . . . . . ._

I haven't let that memory run across my mind in …

… well …

… let's just say, 'Quite a while,' and leave it at that.

Yeah. There are many, many words one might use to describe Raven. But 'fragile' was never one of them.

Anyway, wounds are one thing. Freezing solid is something else altogether. Seriously, that's how you prepare bulk food for long-term storage. You put your grain or dried beans or whatever in the freezer for a week and it kills everything that might be there, right down to the bacteria. And Raven, not to put too fine a point on it, is a lot more complex than bacteria.

Around three or four in the afternoon I sort of realized I hadn't eaten anything since the crackers and applesauce, and my stomach wasn't happy with me. This was a problem because I had very little in the way of prepared food. _Normally_ that doesn't matter because _normally_ I have nothing but time, and cooking my own food helps to use up some of it. Today, though …

I carefully rolled onto one arm until I could slide Raven off of me, then eased myself out from under the blankets. She was breathing … well steadily, anyhow, and more often than she had been. Maybe four times a minute. Not too bad. And her hands were back to their usual color. Shaking my head in wonder, I leaned over and started to kiss her forehead like I used to …

Damn it.

Jerking back and standing quickly, I made for the pantry. Four random cans later, I had a pot of soup heating on the stove. Then I noticed it was time to stoke the fire again.

I had to get some wood from outside. My earlier … _distractions_ had prevented my bringing in very much, and I made up for lost time now. She seemed like she was out of danger (hell, for all I knew she was never in any danger to begin with) and it gave me some leeway in my decision-making.

Several armloads later, I was satisfied. The inside box was full, and I had a couple dozen small logs stacked up by the hearth as well. Sampling my soup, I decided that it was hot enough, but I had to add a generous measure of curry powder to get it truly palatable. Seriously, lima beans? When did I buy those, and what had I been thinking?

I was carrying my bowl over to the sink when it hit me: she was floating several centimeters above the mattress!

This must be that healing trance thing she talked about from time to time. I'd never gotten to see it before.

It was already dark enough outside (and my windows certainly small enough) that the slightly glowing blue light coming from her face was easily visible. I set my bowl in the sink and walked over and knelt beside her.

Her features were smooth now, and tranquil-seeming. I noticed a little discoloration around her eyes, sort of like she hadn't had enough sleep for a while. Funny, I'd missed that the night before. Or maybe it hadn't been there, and it was part of the healing? Who can say? Not me.

She was always so secretive. Even during pillow talk … even when she was still flush with afterglow … hell, even in the throes of climax, she never really let her guard down. Not completely. She told me some about her, uh, _family_ issues, and the demonic source of her powers. She told me a little about Nevermore, but I was left with the impression that there was a hell of a lot more to tell. That was sort of 'the way' with her. She'd give you a glimpse, if you were lucky, but plumbing the deeps was simply out of the question.

I loved her anyway. Even knowing that she was being close with most of her story, the parts I knew, I cherished, and treasured, and loved. And she, or so I thought, loved me back, inasmuch as she was able to. She certainly opened up to me more than she did to anyone else.

Like that time when the state fair was held in Jump City, and Starfire begged her to come with them and she agreed as long as I could come, too. We didn't stay with the group. Neither of us liked crowds very much, for our own reasons, and we'd walked out to the gazebo where the band would be performing later. The sound system was all set up, but at the moment it was deserted, which suited us just fine. Clouds had been gathering all morning, and a sudden rainstorm trapped us there alone for close to an hour, and we talked the whole time, sharing bits and pieces of our pasts while she sat there, comfortable in my lap, her soft, soft hair against my cheek, my neck, my lips …

I tried to stop them, to keep them at bay, but the memories would not be denied. That first one, the one about the aliens that had intruded earlier, seemed to have opened the floodgates. It was as if all my efforts to forget (and all my alcohol) had gone to waste.

… We sat together another time, on a disk of black energy, with four thousand meters of air between us and the ocean. No hint of cloud marred the horizon in any direction. At that altitude the stars were almost fierce in their brilliance, and every last one of them reflected in her eyes …

… I took her camping. Roughing it in northern Idaho, a good fifty klicks from the nearest town. She'd admitted to being a total loss when it came to cooking, but the fresh trout that I caught and that she fried was the most perfect, most succulent thing I had ever tasted … until afterward, when we made love for dessert …

… The gang had ambushed us, a routine patrol suddenly transformed into a storm of hot lead. I took two rounds in the shoulder and one in the gut before I even heard them fire, and then we were surrounded by an impenetrable black dome and her eyes were glowing red and her teeth had become fangs and the gangsters' screams, echoing and strange from the other side of the barrier, were harsh and swiftly broken off. Then my head was in her lap and her hands were over me glowing blue …

I knew she loved me. I knew it the same way I know I need air. And yet, she left me. Hell, she didn't just _leave_ me; she _threw_ me _**away**_. She made sure I would hate her. She worked at it so hard.

I've wondered why in the intervening year or so. A lot.

It wasn't necessary. I like to think that I would have respected her decision if she'd just told me she didn't want to be with me anymore. Of course, I've lied to myself about a lot of other things, too. But … why? Why did she feel the hatred to be … to be a requirement?

And why the **HELL** is she here, now, in my cabin?

I had another bowl of soup. I washed up my things. Then I just sat and watched her, and my thoughts began to drift again.

… We were alone in the Tower. Titans East were hosting a shindig and she had no desire to participate, and I had no desire to be anywhere away from her. This was after the Beast Boy Incident, and she had invested a good deal of effort into convincing me that it was all a big mistake and I was really The One. We sat in the common room and talked for a while, and then she got a secretive smile and gave me a sidelong glance that made shivers run along my back. Rising, she took my hand and led me to her room. I smelled the spicy incense before we got to her door, and when it opened and we stepped inside, the darkness was swept away by a hundred candles suddenly coming to life …

I rubbed at my eyes, surprised to find them wet. Then a huge yawn overtook me, and I realized just how tired I really was, both physically and emotionally.

I only had the one bed, and I certainly didn't feel like sleeping in my chair again. That's hard on my back, no matter _how_ fit I might be. So I scooted back in beside her (below her?) and copped a pillow. I was out in minutes.

. . .

. . .

. . .

When I came to, my thoughts, if you want to call them that, were pretty fuzzy. The sun was overhead (as far as I could tell from the angle of light through my windows) and for some reason I was feeling comfortable and warm and lazy, and I had the strangest, longest, most convoluted dream running around in the back of my head. Raven had showed up in it. Of course it isn't as if I don't dream about her. Often. But this was just really different. It seemed so real. But of course none of the wild things I'd dreamed about would ever happen in a million years.

I'd turned at some point during the night, and was facing away from where …

…

… wait a minute …

…

It wasn't a dream.

That's when I finally realized that there was a body snuggled up against my back. And a small arm across my flank. And someone's breath getting intimate with my neck.

"Jason?"

I broke out in a sweat.

"I'm glad you finally woke up."

Her voice was low and sweet and near, and I gave the tiniest of shudders in response. But I didn't say anything.

The hand against my side gathered a fist-full of my shirt and held on tight. "Jason, I have to say this before you … before you send me away again."

I didn't make a sound.

"I am so terribly, terribly sorry. I … I ruined you. It's all my fault. You never did anything wrong. It was all me. All my own stupid fault. And I am _**so sorry**_!"

My mouth seemed like it ought to be forming words, but nothing happened. I didn't turn over. I didn't dare meet her eyes. Not just then. I couldn't, for if I did I would surely die. It had taken every erg of self-control I could muster to turn her away last time, and …

"Jason?"

I could hear whole _**worlds**_ of uncertainty and regret and longing in that one utterance. Drawing a slow breath, I answered, "… What?"

"If you don't want … can't … forgive me … that's … that's okay." Her voice became more rushed. "I mean, not '_okay_' in the sense that … of course it _couldn't_ be because … but, what I _mean_ is … I understand. I know it's too much."

Unsure of how to reply, I called on my masterful command of the language and said nothing.

"But I had to say it. You have to know. I came to understand how … how awful I had been. To you. To … to us. I know I … started to explain some of it … before. Yesterday? Last night? When we … we talked. Last." She sort of trailed off nearly to a whisper. "So much pain I caused."

Still, I could think of nothing rational to say. To consider this situation unique would not be a stretch.

"But I wanted you to know. You had to know that much."

Several breaths went by. Neither of us moved. She vented a tiny sigh, and then, "How did I get into your bed?"

I had to gather my suddenly-derailed thoughts for a moment. Were we leaving Apology Land now? Is she changing the subject because she's scared of talking about it anymore? Should I have said something?

Am I over-thinking this? Probably. "You … were freezing to death."

"Oh." After considering that briefly, she continued, "I have something of a recollection of crawling into that lean-to and going to sleep."

I responded, "You were frozen, really. Not freezing. I found you. Against my wall. Outside."

"Hmm." I could feel her swallow before she said, "Was it last night?"

"Yes."

She processed that for several breaths. She never let go of my shirt. "And you brought me inside?"

_No, nitwit, I left you there to die alone in the snow. Of __**course**__ I brought you inside! _"… Yes?"

"And you took care of me."

"Yes." That word was a bit steadier.

"You saved my life."

"I guess I did." _As if I had a choice._

"Why?"

Okay, at that point I could no longer help myself. Really.

I turned over.

She repositioned her grip to the front of my shirt, this time using both hands; she had her eyes fixed on them.

I stared at her and said, "Why wouldn't I?"

"It was more mercy than I deserved."

My mouth was so very, very dry, but several swallows later I finally managed, "What do you mean?"

"I betrayed you, and mistreated you horribly, and left you stripped of support at your most vulnerable point."

_Well, __**that**__ was … brutally honest. _ "… … … Okay. Yeah. I guess you did."

"I took on the role of Queen Bitch, and played it to the hilt."

I blinked at her. "No argument."

"And I know there isn't anything I can do _**now**_ that will truly make up for what I did _**then**_."

"Probably not."

"And yet you brought me in anyway." Her gaze still hadn't budged from the front of my shirt.

_I couldn't let you die! I would cease to be if you died!_ But I didn't dare say that. "I'd have to be … some kind of monster to just … to let another person just freeze to death if I could do something about it."

Her eyes finally closed, and she drew a long breath. "A monster like me?"

_How the hell am I supposed to answer that?_ "Well … you were never really put into that position, were you?"

"I didn't have to be. I could be horrible on my own time, without any seminal event to blame it on."

She was voicing a lot of the thoughts that had run through my mind over the last year or so. I couldn't help being bitter. "That _**is**_ something I've wondered about."

A tear made its way to the tip of her _(adorable! flawless!)_ nose. Her eyes moved slowly up to mine, and my brain ground to a shuddering halt.

Yesterday evening she had been guarded. Willing to apologize, yes, but still playing her cards close to the chest. Choosing her words carefully. Even doing a bit of rationalizing.

No more.

What she had done suddenly didn't matter. What I had suffered suddenly was of no consequence. This woman, here in my bed, was a shattered creature. Her soul lay bared before me. Drawing a stuttering breath, she asked, "Do you remember when I got an assignment to work with Batman?"

_What's up with the radical changes in subject?_ I paused, and had to think about that. It was tickling my memory. "Um … maybe?"

She gave a tiny nod. "He contacted Nightwing because an occult gang had set up operations in Gotham."

_Okay. Hang on …_ "Yyyyyyeah. Yeah, I do remember. Sort of." I racked my brain. "Wait … didn't … didn't I go with you?"

"You insisted. You said I could either bring you along or you'd follow on your own, but you were not about to let me go by myself. I told you I thought the danger was too great for someone not practiced in the arts."

"… Yeah! That …" My eyes narrowed. Why was this just now coming back to me?

Offering me a sad smile, she said, "You came with me. I could deny you nothing, not with that fierce love pouring off you."

Some of the pieces fell back into place. "We worked there for a few days."

"We did. And the gang wasn't being careful. They left magical residue all over the place, and we tracked them down inside a week."

"Right! They were in the basement, under that abandoned church …"

"Saint Cecelia of the Rock."

"Yeah! And we found 'em and broke up some ceremony and … and they …"

"And they were a lot more powerful and more prepared than we had anticipated. I'd thought that they were being careless. That wasn't the case at all. They were leaving trails on purpose, in an attempt to draw in other users of magic so they could drain them for their cult. But they didn't count on having a demi-demon show up."

I rubbed my nose, noting that she still had that death-grip on the front of my shirt.

"We tripped a magical trap. It took me a few seconds to overcome the geas, but by then the mage in charge had figured out I wasn't normal. They attacked. I managed to take out the three major players, and the rest of them ran away. That's when I saw … saw that you …"

Those perfect eyes closed and more tears fell. "The trap had … affected your mind. Three of the League members showed up. Batman had been tracking me. Well, you, actually. He did something to your suit. I left it with them and took you into Nevermore. We …" Her voice choked off and she buried her face in my chest. Her shoulders began to shake. "It took … a long time … to heal you. And … I don't … think I ever really did … a complete job of it."

I discovered that my arms had found their way around her, and I pulled her close. "I think I remember a little bit of that."

She didn't say anything for a while. She couldn't, being too busy crying. But finally … "It wasn't _**just**_ that you almost died. I think … think I could have … handled that. All of the Titans came close to death many times. It comes with the territory. But what happened to you … could have destroyed your soul."

A chill ran through me that had nothing to do with October on the Canadian border.

"It may have … unhinged me. A little. I got … you might say 'defensive' about you."

I nodded. "That, I do recall. I didn't understand it. And you wouldn't talk to me. I suspected the nightmares were messing with your mind."

"The nightmares were purely secondary at that point." Meeting my eyes again, she shook her head and said, "I was with you. When you were attacked? I was right there! And I couldn't save you. I couldn't keep you … whole."

"… And?"

"And … I just couldn't take it. If you stayed with me … sooner or later you were going to … to be …"

"Shhh …" I hugged her, beginning to understand.

Sobs robbed her of the ability to talk for a couple of minutes, but she finally regained a measure of control. "It sounds so … twisted now. But I really thought … I had to … drive you away. To save your life. Your essence. I had to make you … hate me."

"And you did a bang-up job of it."

That spun her back into another bout of crying. My shirt absorbed a great many of her tears. And that gave me a bit of time to think.

She's half-demon. Although raised as a (more or less) human, she has to constantly combat the innately evil nature in her very DNA. Doing "good" doesn't come naturally to her. She has to make that conscious choice every time she is presented an option. And, really? She did a damn fine job.

I knew this.

She's a textbook mental dichotomy. She is, at once, one of the most stable, disciplined intellects (perforce, given her heritage) I have ever encountered, and yet, in her mind, she is sundered, her Emotions neatly compartmentalized, and occasionally at odds with each other. Or maybe not-so-neatly. But that situation makes things a lot more … _complicated_ than anything the average human has to deal with.

I knew that, too.

On the other hand, she was dead on target when she said she'd ruined me. In more ways than she knew, I suspected. I was certainly ruined for any other relationship. And my dignity, what there had been of it, was in a sorry state. And my trust was ruined.

_**Had**_ been ruined. Just then, I wasn't so sure. I had never seen her approach anything _like_ the state of vulnerability and helplessness she had here, in my bed … in my arms.

_She's in my arms again!_

I tried to stuff my inner glee back into its jar. That's tough when it's grown to about a thousand times the size of the jar. So I settled for shoving it into a mental closet for the time being. I had to concentrate …

Handing her a few tissues, I said, "Raven?"

She accepted them without comment and wiped at her face a few times. When she could answer without hiccupping, she met my eyes and said, "Yes?"

"Raven … what do you want?"

That brought on a series of rapid blinks. "Pardon me?"

"What is it that you want? What did you hope to accomplish by coming here? What do you want for yourself? What do you want from me? Or had you thought that far ahead?"

A hesitant nod came first. "Oh, I've … thought about it." She blew her nose. "I've thought about it a lot."

"Then you must have come up with an answer."

Those beautiful eyes dropped again. "Several."

"Would you mind sharing?"

She stared off into space for a while. Finally giving a tiny, one-shouldered shrug, she said. "At first I just wanted to apologize for being such a nasty harridan, to let you know that I was … I was aware that I'd been … difficult."

I chuckled – forcefully – at her description. She may have taken that as a good sign, because a tiny smile – almost unnoticeable and very short-lived – flitted across her lips.

"After some time passed, though … well … my needs … strike that, my _**desires**_ got … new life. I dreamed about you all the time. I'd been doing that anyway." She breathed a long sigh. "Actually … Jinx figured things out before I did."

"… Say what?"

"She, um, knew … that is, she deduced that I was … um … still … um … I mean, I wasn't really … you know … in love. With her."

I mulled that over, several dozen scenarios flashing through my mind at roughly the speed of a neutrino. "So all that sex you two had …?"

Another sigh. "Was just sex. And she knew it. Felt it. I guess it was pretty obvious."

"Good sex, though?"

She blinked at me. "… Are you jerking my chain with that question?"

"That's a possibility."

"I'm trying to be _serious_ and _transparent_ and you …"

"Whoa, whoa! Sorry." I stroked her hair to calm her down. It worked about as well as it used to, meaning that … well … it worked. She got quiet and leaned into my hand. "So … you thought you were in love with her, but weren't?"

A quick flicker as her eyes met mine for less than a second. "I … don't know that I really gave it that much thought. It was … it was … an alternative." Then she _did_ give me her full attention. "It was an excuse. It was a fabrication that allowed me to … to do what I …"

She faltered. I repositioned my hand to her cheek, and then gently turned her face toward mine. She studiously examined my chin.

"Raven, look at me."

Hesitantly, after a couple of false starts, she did.

"You started trying to find me … eleven months ago?"

A nod was her answer.

"And that's what you've been doing … full time? Since then?"

Another quick nod.

"So, no Titans work in all that time?"

"No. Nightwing … can be, uh, somewhat difficult. Under some circumstances."

"I'll just bet. Did he give you the boot or is this a sort of sabbatical?"

"I'm no longer officially a Titan."

"Huh." I'll have to admit to being surprised. She's such a powerhouse, the Bird Brain would have to be a total _**idiot**_ to deprive the team of her aid. "And you haven't been back to Titans' Tower at all?"

"No."

"How have you been getting by?"

She colored slightly, which puzzled me. Dropping her gaze back to my chin, she said, quietly, "As it happens, there are a lot of people who will pay for some of the things I can do."

My chest got tight. Really tight, really fast. "Like what?"

"Like … listening in, unseen, to delicate corporate negotiations and letting my contractor know if his counterpart is lying or not."

I just stared at her, an incredulous grin growing. So she _**hadn't**_ meant … "You hired yourself out as a lie detector?"

"… Among other things." At my raised eyebrow, she hurried to add, "Nothing illegal, though!"

"As if I'd really care, but good for you I guess."

She buried her flaming face in my chest again.

"And you just, what, never had occasion to run back by Jump City?"

"Um … not exactly." My shirt muffled her voice.

"What's that mean?"

"I passed through Jump … a few times."

"… Do you mean to tell me that Nightwing wouldn't let you come to the Tower?"

"Um … no. It's not like that."

"Then what _**is**_ it like?"

"… Well … I did meet Vic for lunch once. But he didn't tell the others. And I couldn't … that is, I'd been … um …

"Geez, Rae, just spit it out."

"… I couldn't go back to the Tower. Jinx said she'd … she would wipe the floor with me if I came back without you."

On my short list of possible answers, that concept did not appear. "Jinx said _**that**_?"

"Yeah."

"How would she know?"

"She's there. She took my place on the team."

"… The _**HELL**_?" I'll admit that floored me a little.

"Nightwing wasn't … enthusiastic about the idea. But Jinx can be very persuasive. And she … proved she'd been … 'tracking the straight and narrow' to use her words, since before we started, uh, dating. And Slade had …"

"Whoa. That's okay. Details, et cetera, that I don't think are important right now. But as for Jinx … you mean to tell me she actually _threatened_ you?"

"I _**told**_ you she figured it all out before I did. She was … very unhappy with me." She glanced up for a second, the color high in her cheeks.

"Ah-huh. And what else did she say?"

"… What makes you think …"

"Transparent? Was that the word you used a moment ago?"

"… Um …"

"What else did she say?"

I could barely make out her words. "That when I did bring you back, she'd give us both a 'welcome home' session in the bedroom we'd never forget."

I totally had to laugh at that. The very idea. "Rae, I think _**she**_ was jerking your chain with that!"

"She was very convincing."

"She can be, I know."

Stilling and growing quiet, Raven simply hung on to me for a while.

After a couple of minutes passed in silence, I asked, "Is all this … all this stuff you've been telling me … all this confusion and self-discovery and soul-searching … is that what's been going through your mind while you looked for me?"

A few seconds passed, and then, "Yes. Constantly."

"Okay." I stopped to consider my words. "Then what about later?"

"… Later? Later than what?"

"You said that at first you just wanted to apologize. But what about …"

"Oh! Oh, yes." A small frown made itself at home between her eyes. "Yes, well. Later." She once again found the front of my shirt to be fascinating. "… Later I started hoping that I could … that you would … give me enough time to explain my motivations."

"You mean the way you've been doing?"

"… Yeah." It wasn't much more than a whisper.

I solidified my hold on her waist. "And if you managed that? Then what?"

"Then I thought that, maybe, if you listened and … and understood …"

She left that sentence hanging off the cliff, so I helped her. "If I understood why you did the horrible things you did?"

Another nod.

"Well let's suppose for the sake of argument that I did listen and I did understand your motives for treating me so shabbily." She ducked her head toward me again, hiding her face in the wet fabric. "And let's suppose that I decided to give you the benefit of the doubt." She didn't move a muscle. I don't think she even drew a breath the whole time I spoke. "If we make those assumptions, what, then would be the next thing you'd want?"

She gasped. It was a tiny one, but I heard it. "Um … looking at it, uh, like … I mean, if we're going all 'blue-sky' and everything, like no limit, genie-level wish fulfillment … then, uh … what I'd really like … what I'd hope for with everything in me that can hope …" She looked up slowly and met my eyes. They widened a touch at what they saw. "What I'd do anything in this life to get …" She paused and pulled a long breath, letting about half of it out. "… is another chance."

Was I really hearing this? Was this truly possible? "A chance at what?"

"… A chance at us."

I had never seen a more pellucid truth than what I saw shining from those indescribable amethyst orbs.

Moving one hand up to the base of her neck, I gave her a light squeeze, leaned forward, and kissed her forehead. "Well, you know what they say."

"… Do I?"

"The third time's the charm."

The wave of relief that washed over me, just the spillage from her aura, made me catch my breath. But then she robbed it again with her lips, holding me in the tightest embrace I could ever remember.

Eventually we had to break for air. She snuggled in closer and worked her head up against my neck. "I think I like that old saying."

"Me, too." I ran fingers down her arm, eliciting a contented sigh. "And you get a perk with it."

"Really? What?"

"Jinx doesn't have to beat you up now."

Her answering laugh was pure and free and un-forced, and for the first time in more than a year I found a solid reason to live.

. . .

. . .

. . .

**A/N: Thanks for sticking with me! Now, please let me know what you think.**

**Cheers!**


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